328 LAST YEARS AND DEATH. streets, their cheeks rosy with the cold. To a traveler who asked what they were doing they answered with sweet smiles, "We are paying Christmas visits to our friends and relatives, gathering presents; and when Mr. Neesima comes we shall give them to him for the university." Dearly beloved children! He for whom you so eagerly waited will come no more. On January 24th the body was taken to Kyoto for burial. The train did not arrive until nearly mid­night, but a thousand persons, including over six hun­dred students, were waiting at the station. On re­ceipt of the news that Mr. Neesima was dangerously ill, the students had been with difficulty restrained from proceeding to his bedside in a body, and the earnest appeals made in the prayer-meetings held for several days before his death testified to the strong affection between the teacher and his pupils. The night was stormy and the streets were deep in mud and half-melted snow, but they allowed no one else to touch the bier, carrying it themselves by relays, changed at every block, the three miles which separated the house from the station, so eager were all to share in this sacred service. On Sunday, the 26th, memo­rial services were held in the chapel, that of the morn­ing being conducted in Japanese, and that of the afternoon in English. All day long hundreds filed by the casket to look for the last time upon the face of him they loved. "It touched my heart," a young Japanese said to me, "to see among many who came to take their farewell look at his face, the chief judge of the Kyoto court, a pleasant gentleman, always ready to say something amusing. He entered the house very softly, and before passing into the room where the casket was, took off his outer garment, so